


love the innovation (that I accept)

by goldenmagikarp



Series: finnish tentacle rookies [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacle Dick, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 23:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenmagikarp/pseuds/goldenmagikarp
Summary: No one told Esa he had to give the rookies the Talk (feat. tentacle petting).





	love the innovation (that I accept)

**Author's Note:**

> Because no one can be as late to fandom trope like this like me. Original is taken from this sinbin prompt, I think. [ Here ](https://thesinbin.dreamwidth.org/3790.html?thread=4211406#cmt4211406)

Esa didn't know what he was expecting, honestly. But it wasn't a rookie defenseman with his pants down. 

(And that was also weird. They gave him _rookies._ Like, more than one. Esa was also pretty sure he was nothing like them when he was a rookie, though Klinger might disagree.)

So, when Miro sent him increasingly worrying texts, Esa used the key he's been using to make sure the rookies wake up on time. Because he doesn't want them to actually die in Dallas. There'd be a lot of people very cross with Esa, he expects. 

It might be Esa's fault for opening the door, but it's not like he hasn't caught teammates in compromising situations before. Miro swears loudly, and it isn't the shocked and slight embarrassment that usually happens when a teammate walks into a jerkoff session. It's the sound of a rookie freaking out about things he doesn't understand.

"I can't believe this," Miro keeps repeating, and to be honest, Esa can't blame him. It's far enough into the season, Esa supposes, for this. 

This meaning the tentacle between Miro's legs, where a dick would normally be. It's a few shades lighter than victory green, and the slick on it has a silvery sheen, and occasionally, not unlike a dick, it twitches on its own. Miro's fingers dig into his thighs with some sort of effort. 

Miro takes several deep breaths, and then he screws up his face to one side, to take a sharper inhale. "Why are you not concerned?" 

"They didn't tell you?" Esa is pretty sure they wouldn't leave their star rookie in the dark. "Pretty sure you signed a contract with something in it about this "

"I," And here Miro shrugs. "I sort of let my agent and parents work that out." 

Esa takes the moment to sit next to Miro on the bed and swing an arm around his rookie. "You're up to stay, and it's not the worst thing, honestly."

Miro leans into him. 

"But my dick," he whines, and Miro has the horrified tone of someone deeply concerned for his manhood, and Esa can't help but laugh, ignoring the offended look Miro shoots him. 

"You get it back. Mine went back to normal pretty fast."

There's a moment of silence, and Miro takes another sharp breath. "You had one?" 

Esa then remembers that they don't really have a lot of young guys left on their first deal, one or two at the most; he doesn't make a habit of looking at the other dicks in the locker room. They're there. 

He still looks at Miro's tentacle, which is slightly pulsing in time with Miro's erratic breathing. He pats Miro's shoulder, even though Miro's new tentacle flails a little, spreading silvery slick on the inside of his thighs. "Yeah, it's normal. You kind of outgrow it. Rookies like you have them." 

Miro makes a sound deep in his throat, a half-whine. "It kind of hurts, but like, it's so fucking gross. How do I make it stop?"

Esa sighs; he remembers this too, but maybe it's worse for Miro, who's still a teenage boy with the dick--now tentacle--of a teenage boy. He tries to be soothing, but Esa can feel his face burn red. "What kind of hurt?" 

"Anything touching it is too much. I don't fucking know if I can put on _pants_. And it aches." Miro grits his teeth. "Fuck, how I am going to go to practice?" 

They have a day off, but that is kind of a pressing problem. Esa, on a whim, says, "Don't worry. The trainers won't mind," and he cuts off any protest by Miro by saying, "And I'll take care of you." 

Miro turns to look up at him, eyes wide. 

Esa takes a breath and goes for it, only sparing a moment to think about his tentacle days. He puts his hand near Miro's tentacle, and it clumsily reaches for Esa's skin. It's oddly warm when it wraps around his wrist, and he can feel it pulsing over his own pulse point. 

He'd be lying if it didn't go to his dick a little. "Yeah, they tend to have a mind of their own," Esa says, but he lets it run up and down his wrist, spreading slick all over it. "It gets better, mostly." 

It's kind of difficult to look away from the tentacle. Miro gasps and exhales, and Esa feels it against his shirt, and somehow, they've moved so that Miro is in Esa's lap. He'd really be lying if his dick wasn't into it, and his breathing is heavier. 

The tentacle writhes when Esa manages to untangle it from himself, and it stops protesting when he has a hand around the base. A part of Esa wants to ask Miro how he jerks off, but the tentacle just keeps dripping slick, and Esa just lets it move against his hand before setting a pace himself. 

Miro isn't complaining: his breath comes heavy, and he tilts his hips up, whining and gasping, and some of the words out of his mouth are disbelief, and some of them are Esa's name, and Esa licks his lips as he keeps going. Miro's hands grab at his sheet and at Esa, and then Miro shudders and convulses, and the tentacle goes slack, covering Esa's hand and Miro's stomach with even more silvery slick.

It's shiny and it glitters in the light, and there's a sheen that appeals to Esa's hindbrain. He wonders what it would taste like--and then Esa shakes his head, wipes the slick on Miro's sheets, which are pretty much guaranteed to be ruined by now. 

When Miro comes back from it, he keeps trying to start sentences. It doesn't work. 

Esa laughs at him. "Good?" As Esa remembers, the orgasms are intense. He doesn't have quite full recollection of them now that he has his own dick again. 

"That was like I died, but in a good way," he says, very confused. "And um, do you--?" 

Esa's dick is pretty hard, still, but Esa has to be better than this. They have an off day, but Esa doesn't want to quite get into the firmer details of tentacle sexual education right now. So he shakes his head. "I'll jerk off later. Don't worry about it." 

He can see Miro bite off some words, but that is also another topic for another time. 

"Don't, uh, taste the slick," Esa says, though he knows from experience that Miro probably will, at some point. It might stop him for a couple of days; just enough time for Esa to prepare a better talk. "Wash your hands with soap and water, maybe some lemon juice." 

"Oh," Miro says. 

"If it hurts," he continues. "Jerk off. It won't start feeling normal until a while, but it's still your dick, okay?" Also, he can't help but say, "And I know how much you probably do that. If it doesn't help, come to me." 

He lets that sink in before saying. "I'm your d partner, okay. I'll take care of you." It's what they _do_ , and Esa's not sure he would have said that if Miro wasn't also specifically his rookie, but he _is_. 

" _Oh_ ," Miro says. 

When he finally leaves, Esa wonders if he has to give Roope the talk too.


End file.
